


Striped from My Skin

by Adanska



Series: built on a history of scars [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: (mild) loss of agency, Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adanska/pseuds/Adanska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locked in the bathroom of her cabin, away from the omnipresent AI and the cameras and the Cerberus lackeys and the collectors and everything, Shepard took a moment to study her new self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Striped from My Skin

Locked in the bathroom of her cabin, away from the omnipresent AI and the cameras and the Cerberus lackeys and the collectors and _everything_ , Shepard took a moment to study her new self. Tilting her head, she eyed the sullen glow of cybernetics peaking through the gapes in her flesh, watched as the light did _not_ catch on the ridge on her chin, or on the gnarled mess that bisected her right eyebrow. Aside from the frankly _freak show_ lighting, her skin was flawless, her skin back to the spacer's pallor she hadn't had since boot camp.

Abruptly, she clawed at the Cerberus shirts she was wearing, tearing each layer off her body with rough staccato jerks, flinging the fabric in the corner. Her nails caught painfully along her breasts as she pulled her sports bra off; alone, her jaw clenched so tight, she forced herself to look.

The frag marks no longer speckled up her left ribs onto her breast, her nipple was no longer oddly lined from the same grenade; her stomach was clear from the gouge marks from climbing through too tight too deadly too ruined tunnels too many times in her life; her back, once checked, was also missing its constellation of frag marks and jagged scars; if she could bring herself to check her thighs, her calves, she knew she would see the same.

She curled over the sink, dry heaving, skin splitting apart in sullen lines as she shook herself apart. Her history was carved into her body, from Mindoir to Akuze, from life in the Alliance's shitty foster system to basic to N7 training to Biotic implants, from starting planet to the Crucible. The scar on her chin where her youngest cousin had slammed her face-first into the table. The surgery scar where they'd repaired her knee seventeen hours too late for it to do anyone any good, seventeen hours too late to save her family. The nick on her pinky from trying to help Joker with something in the cockpit. The puncture scar on her foot from her first job copper stripping; the puncture wound on her other food from the second job. It was all gone. She had _died_ , could remember her heart and head screaming as the oxygen vented from her suit, the last thing she saw as her body burned and her vision blacked space, just space; she could remember starting to fall. She had died, and now she was back, thanks to _Cerberus_ , rebuilt and regrown from pieces scattered between heaven and earth with only _their_ word that she was who she was.

She was a blank slate, and that wasn't _fair_.

She shuddered, again, almost to her knees in the cold room, clinging so hard to the sink her fingers were cramped. Swallowing harshly, she pulled herself to her feet, forcing herself upright. Eyes locked on the mirror, she told herself, "You are Commander Kris Shepard, N7, first human Spectre, and Captain of the Normandy. You were born on Mindoir, you lost your family there, and you grew up on Earth and colonies in foster until you could enlist. You signed up for everything that paid worth a damn, you have Biotics and an N7 ranking and a _ship_ because of that, you may have lost your whole team on Akuze but you saved everyone on the Normandy and you died for them so you know what, you're a head of the game on this one.

"You are Commander Shepard, and you will _not_ let this throw you."

Jaw clenched, she spun towards the private shower, shucking her pants and throwing the water to hot. The Illusive Man said there were people who could help on Omega, Shepard had always wanted to go to Omega, seemed like a good fit. And maybe once she was done with Cerberus' bullshit she could find some old friends.

**Author's Note:**

> So I just really wanted to write something with Shepard from the beginning of ME2 (because I know I wouldn’t take to well to having my history stripped from my skin).


End file.
